Forgiven For All He Has Done
by Delia Brethilwen
Summary: Mina Burch is a woman with a past she rarely talks about, with secrets that forced her to leave her home for the hunter's life. When she joins up with the Winchesters after Ezekiel has agreed to heal Sam, she befriends the strange angel, learns his secrets, and helps him with his own problems while dealing with her own. *ON HIATUS FOR NOW*
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So how the show dealt with Gadreel and the way some of the fandom treats him just drives me crazy. I don't think the show did him justice, so I'm gonna rewrite it a bit. Yes, I'm adding a new character, because all Gadreel really ever needed was someone who would listen to him and tell him that they believed him and that he was forgiven for everything. So. That's why Mina was created. I use the transcripts for the show that are posted on the Supernatural Wiki for reference for dialogue sometimes, but I don't own anything but Mina. I hope you enjoy this.**

* * *

The rumble of an engine appeared behind me and grew louder. I turned and walked backward, sticking my hand out and putting my thumb in the air, hoping I could catch a ride. The approaching headlights made me squint, but I noticed it was slowing down and I half-smiled. When it pulled to a stop beside me and the passenger's window rolled down, I leaned forward to look in, letting my hand drop to my waist and rest cautiously on the pistol in my waistband. But the faces that peered back at me from the interior of the car weren't the faces of strangers that I was expecting. "Sam?" I asked, incredulous. "Dean?"

"Mina?" Sam Winchester asked from the passenger's seat. "Mina Burch?"

"One and the same."

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Dean Winchester asked. "Last we heard, you were in some small town in Washington taking care of a vamp nest."

"That was almost three years ago, bud. Give me a ride and I'll tell you what I've been up to."

"Sure, get in," he said, jerking his head to the back seat. I smiled and opened the back door, tossing my bag to the far side of the seat before sliding in after it. Dean pulled away from the shoulder of the road and roared back down the highway.

I smirked as I recognized the car I was riding in. "You guys still driving this old piece of junk?" I asked.

"Woah," Dean said indignantly. "I could pull right over again and let you out, you know."

"Hey, I'm just observing. I was sure this thing would have broken down for good by now."

"When she breaks, I fix her. She's never leaving us."

"Oh, good. You've got an obsession. That's healthy."

Sam turned and grinned at me but Dean just glared at the road. "So what've you been up to, Mina?" the younger Winchester asked.

"Well, that job in Washington was easy as pie. Some vamps took advantage of the recent hype of the _Twilight_ series and set up a nest in the actual town of Forks. I headed there with Peter-"

"Your boyfriend, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. We headed over and did the usual routine: I let them give me some of their blood, start the turning process, and lured them off one by one to kill them. Then we changed me back."

"So where's Peter now?"

I was silent for a moment before answering. "Dead."

Sam looked at me again, this time with those big, sad puppy eyes, and said, "What happened?"

"About a year ago," I began, begging my voice not to crack as I spoke. "We found another vamp nest. Those were always our speciality. These vamps were different, though. They weren't looking for people to turn. They were looking for pets, for humans to keep around and feed on when they were hungry."

"Lazy vampires?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, you could call them lazy. Anyway, we knew we'd have to do this hunt differently, but I still chose to be the bait. I let the recruiter vamp hit on me at the bar, and I flirted back. Our plan was that I would go with him to his lair and turn on the GPS chip I'd hidden in my boot so Peter could find me and bring the weapons. But it was a long drive, and Peter took longer than expected. I had to let them drink from me to keep up the charade, and when he finally did arrive, I was exhausted from blood loss. I fought as best I could but a vamp got me pinned down while the last one tore out Peter's throat. Adrenaline kicked in then and I rolled the vamp over, cutting off its head and then spinning to decapitate the other. Peter couldn't even speak as he died."

I paused and took a deep breath before continuing. I could feel both brothers' eyes watching me. "One of the vamps had called 911 before I killed it, probably trying to get me caught as retribution. I was forced to burn everything: the house, the bodies, our car and all the IDs we'd had. I filled a bag with clothes, weapons, and cash, and left the scene. I've been hitchhiking it around the states since then, hunting wherever I hear about a case and hustling for cash."

"You should've called or something, Mina," Sam said, looking at me sadly.

"Nah, I couldn't do that. You guys were doing your own thing. You didn't need to worry about some broken hunter messing up your cases. I got along fine, anyways."

"Well," Dean said. "Now you're with us, you can stay with us for a while."

"I can pay-"

"Nobody's paying for anything. We've got a place, a permanent place, in Kansas, and there's plenty of room for you to stay there. If you wanna leave the next day, that's fine. But you're gonna at least get one night's good sleep and a meal not made in some dirty kitchen at a truck stop."

I'll admit, what these boys were willing to do for me, despite the fact that we'd met exactly two times before, made me a little teary-eyed, but I blinked the wetness away and said, "Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it."

"Hunters gotta have each others' backs," Sam said with a small smile. I smiled back and finally allowed myself to get comfortable in the back seat, watching the blur of scenery as Dean sped down the highway.

* * *

I don't remember falling asleep. What I sure as hell do remember is Dean's loud voice rousing me with a far too cheerful, "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." My eyes flew open and I sat up straight, hand going for my gun. "Woah, hey, you're good," Dean said quickly. I looked around and saw him leaning on his forearms in my window. "It's just me. Here," he tossed me a packaged chocolate chip muffin and a bottle of water. "Breakfast."

"Where are we?" I asked, opening the muffin and taking a bite out of it.

"Couple hours from home." I made a mental note that Dean thought of this secret hideout we were heading for as "home" as he continued. "But we thought we'd make a pit stop and get something to eat, check on the other passenger we have."

"Other passenger?"

"Oh yeah," Sam interrupted, pushing Dean to the side and leaning down to the window. "Didn't we say? We have the King of Hell chained in our trunk." He was giving Dean the signature Sam Winchester bitchface, which I'd personally experienced on our second hunt together, so I knew they weren't in agreement on something here.

"Oh really," was all I said, though. "That's interesting."

"Yes," Sam said tightly. "It is."

"Sammy," Dean said.

I could tell they were about to get into it, and I didn't want to be there for that, so I said quickly, "There a bathroom at this pit stop? I gotta take a leak."

"Yeah," Dean said absently and pointed to a small wooden building. "It's there."

"Thanks." I pushed open the door, moving the Winchesters at the same time, and hurried away. I looked back at the bathroom and paused. For a moment, I could have sworn that Sam's eyes glowed blue as he straightened and prepared to argue with Dean, but I blinked and it was gone. I marked it down as exhaustion mixed with a trick of the light and entered the dingy bathroom. I hadn't been lying about needing to pee, so I took care of that and then checked my appearance in the mirror, stalling to give the boys time to yell it out. I sighed at the sight of my hair: some of the dark brown curls were pressed flat against the side of my head from where I'd leaned on the leather seat, and the rest were frizzy. I turned on the water in the sink and did my best to get my hair back in order. It seemed impossible, though, so I sighed and pulled my hair back, securing it with the hair band from my wrist. Then I splashed my face with water, wiped it off with a rough paper towel, and headed back out to the Impala and the Winchesters.

I watched the brothers as I walked. Sam was slouched back down again but the two were still arguing. He looked my way then and looked confused. "That was fast, Mina," he said when I was within earshot. Dean turned to look at me too, but there was no confusion on his face. I knew I had been gone for at least ten minutes, what with dilly dallying to avoid their argument, but then Sam said, "I just saw you walk into the bathroom like a minute ago."

There was a flash of panic in Dean's eyes, and I got the strange tingle in the back of my head that usually occurs when there's something going on beyond normal human senses, so when I spoke all I said was, "What can I say, Sam, I'm the world's fastest pisser." Sam stared at me for a moment, then shrugged and got back into the Impala. I brushed past Dean, determining to keep my thoughts to myself for now, and slid back into the seat next to my bag. Soon we were back on the road, heading for this new "home" the Winchesters had in Kansas.

* * *

As I got out of the Impala and surveyed the unassuming metal door set into the side of a hill, my eyebrows rose and I said, "This is what you call home now?"

"Just wait," Dean said, going to the trunk and opening it. "You haven't seen the inside yet. Gimme a hand here, Sam." Together the two of them hoisted a short man in a ruffled black suit, head covered by a black bag, out of the trunk and set him on his feet. Then Dean slipped a pair of sound-muffling ear muffs onto the man over the bag and said, "Alright, Sam stay with Crowley here while I check if everything's good inside. Come on, Mina. Let me show you the Batcave." I smirked but followed Dean to the door and let him lead the way inside.

We came to a balcony overlooking a huge room with a large table in the middle. I let out an appreciative whistle that was cut short by a crossbow bolt embedding itself in the railing in front of us. "The hell?" Dean said as he pulled the bolt from the wood.

"Dean?" a timid voice said. I risked a glance over the railing to see a young man emerge from behind a table, crossbow in hand. "You're alive!"

"Yeah, 'cause you're a crappy shot." He paused slightly before adding, "Katniss."

"Who's that?"

"Mina Burch, another hunter." We walked down the stairs as he introduced us. "Mina, this is Kevin Tran."

I held out my hand to shake as I asked, "You a hunter too, Kevin?"

He shook my hand as Dean scoffed and said, "Him? No. He's a prophet of God."

"A prophet?" I looked the kid up and down. "Isn't he too adorable for that? I thought prophets were old dudes who smelled and drank too much."

The Winchester chuckled. "Don't worry. He smells, too. One hundred percent prophet."

"It's been a bad couple of days," Kevin explained to Dean. "After we talked, this place went nuts, alright? Th-there was some alarm, and all the machines were freaking out, and the bunker just locked down. I couldn't open the door, my cellphone stopped working, I thought the world was ending."

"Close." He paused. "The angels fell." I nodded and grimaced at the prophet.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing good." He grabbed the crossbow from the boy and said, "Listen, next time the world's ending, grab a gun." Then he tossed it onto the table with a shake of his head.

I walked into the next room and examined some of the books that were shelved there while Dean and Kevin talked about cell phone service. Sam's voice broke my reverie. "Hey." I turned and saw him standing at the top of the stairs with Crowley. "All good?"

"Is it ever," Dean replied, motioning for Sam to bring the demon down. "Come on." As the younger Winchester manhandled the King of Hell down the stairs, I watched as Kevin's face grew pale and angry.

"No," he whispered as the brothers took Crowley into one of the side hallways.

"What's wrong, kid?" I asked.

"He killed my mother." I could hear the venom in his voice. "He told me himself."

"How long ago?"

"A few months ago. She was the last person I had from my other life."

I nodded. "That's tough. I know about losing people."

"Oh yeah? Who'd you lose?" His voice was bitter, like he was challenging me to beat the loss of his mother.

Steeling myself, I gave it to him straight. "My dad went to jail when I was nine. Dealing drugs to buy food for my mother and I. Latinos didn't have it easy in the prison he was sent to. He was dead before the week was up. Suicide." Kevin's eyes had gone wide. "When I was fourteen, a couple vampires showed up and decided to make a nest in my hometown. They kidnapped my mom and turned her. This hunter named Peter showed up and I insisted on helping him take out the vamp nest to save my mom, but she died anyway. After that, I traveled with Peter and became a hunter like him. We fell in love, eventually. Then last year, vamps killed him. I've been on my own since then."

The prophet seemed speechless. "Wow," he said. "I-I'm sorry."

"We all lose people, kid," I said. "And then people lose us. That's the way life is. Especially this life." I put my hand on his shoulder. "Some people choose this life, like me. Some are forced into it, like you. Some have a complicated relationship with it, like Sam and Dean. But we all choose how we live this life. So we can spend our years being bitter, or we can get over it and move on and do some good. What are you gonna pick?"

"I wanna do good," he said, looking me in the eyes. "I wanna help people."

I nodded. "Great. So what does a prophet do, exactly?"

He was about to answer when the Winchesters returned, minus one Crowley, and Kevin turned to them. "What's Crowley doing here?" he asked. "Why isn't he dead? Why aren't you stabbing him right now?" I rolled my eyes; still obsessed with revenge a bit, wasn't he?

"Alright, alright," Dean said. "Chill out, Kevin, okay? We need him."

"What?!"

"Kevin, look," Sam explained. "If we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he's got topside, we can hunt them down. All of 'em."

"He will break, okay," Dean continued. "When he does, we'll hold him down while you knife him. Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers."

"Just stay away from him, alright?"

The prophet nodded reluctantly, but I could tell from the tension in his shoulders that he would probably pay Crowley a personal visit very soon. "So what now?" I asked.

"I gotta make some phone calls. You," Dean pointed at Kevin. "Need to hit the angel tablet, see if you can find anything on the spell that Metatron used to empty out heaven."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, maybe we can reverse it before the God Squad does too much damage."

"Yeah, if we're lucky. Alright, Sam, get Mina a room and then you two can check the net for anything angel-y."

"Or demon-y."

"Or monster-y," I added.

"Or ghost-y, or," Dean frowned. "It's gonna be a busy year."

Sam nodded, then said, "Come on, Mina, let's get you a room." He led the way down a hallway off the main room. "You got a preference whether it's close to where Dean and I are staying or not?"

"I don't much care."

"Alright. Here, then." He stopped in front a door with a simple numeral eight on it. "This can be your room whenever you're here."

"Thanks." I opened the door and went in, tossing my bag onto the bed and looking around. It was bare, with a chest of drawers on one wall and a closet in the other. There was a simple wooden desk and chair and a single shelf over the bed. "Cozy," I said, cracking a small smile as I turned back to Sam. "I really appreciate you guys letting me crash here for a while."

"It's no problem, really. We have almost too much space here." He paused, then said, "You didn't seem surprised when Dean mentioned angels."

"Because I wasn't. I was camping out at a truck stop when the angels fell. One landed in the parking lot out back. I knew it was an angel in its vessel from the way the girl glowed blue from her injuries."

"Did she survive?"

I shrugged. "I didn't stick around to see. Something like that is bound to bring the authorities, and I didn't need that. Besides, one angel will bring another, or so they say, and most of the time those guys are dickbags."

Again, I thought I saw a little spark of blue appear in Sam's hazel eyes, but then it was gone and he was saying, "Well, we know just one who's okay, so far. Hopefully, there are others like him out there, but for now it's just us and him."

"Awesome."

"Let's get back. We need to be looking for signs of anything bad happening."

"Good idea."

* * *

Hours later, I found myself walking down a chemically-contaminated street, my guns loaded with bullets with devil's traps carved into them and holy water flasks on my hip. The Winchesters and I moved along the street, then made our way carefully to an abandoned diner, where we figured the two hunters we'd come to save, Irv and Tracy, were being held. As Sam and Dean checked them to make sure they hadn't become meatsuits for demons and then freed them, I kept an eye on the windows and doors, looking for signs of the three Army guys and Abaddon. Then they let them restock with guns and ammo as Dean explained the devil's-trapped bullets. A noise caught my attention and I saw two demons walking to the diner. "They're coming," I said.

"Good," Dean replied.

"And they've got assault rifles," Sam added, having joined me at the window.

"Okay, less good."

"So," Irv asked. "What's the play?"

Minutes later, we were standing just outside the back door of the diner as the two demons burst into the front. "Alright," Dean said. "We gotta flank SEAL Team Douche in there, so, uh, Irv, you and me will go left, and Sam, Tracy, and Mina, go right."

"Okay," Sam said. "Let's move." He put a hand on Tracy's shoulder briefly, but she shoved it off.

"Don't touch me," she said harshly.

"Woah," Dean said. "What's the problem?"

"My family's dead because of him."

I rolled my eyes and leaned forward around the edge of the building, scanning for the other Army demon and Abaddon. Then Sam, Irv, and I were moving around the right of the building to ambush the demons in the diner.

"You two copacetic?" Irv asked as we neared the corner.

I nodded and Sam said, "Yeah," with a bit of confusion.

"Good. Now hand me that toothpick and you two and Dean and Tracy, you beat feet out of here."

"What?"

"I'm going in there alone. I'll buy you as much time as I can."

"Irv, that's death." I was studying the older hunter through narrowed eyes. There was the familiar tingle in the back of my head that told me something was up. _Literally up_ , my senses said, so I stepped back slightly and scanned the rooftops. I edged away from the two of them, backing back down the way we'd come. I had backed up enough to see the sniper on the roof catty-corner from the diner, and as I let off a shot, so did he, hitting Irv in the heart. My shot missed, as did Sam's, which he fired off as he made a mad dash for the diner. I made to run for the diner too, but the sniper stopped me. I cursed and made my way back, deciding to try to get on the rooftop to kill the sniper.

I got halfway to my goal when I noticed he was climbing down and heading for the diner. There were shots from the left of the diner, where I knew Dean and Tracy were, but I knew they could handle themselves as I began to climb back down from the rooftops. I had almost reached the door to the diner when a bright, white light filled the building. The tingling in the back of my head reached a spiking pain and then the windows burst out and the light was gone. I cautiously walked in through the front door, expecting an angel. "Sam?" I said. The tall man straightened from where he was bent over the body of a demon, pulling the demon blade out of its chest and looking at me. But the way he tilted his head and regarded me curiously, the way he was standing straight instead of slouched, and the now roaring pain in my head told me this wasn't Sam. "You're an angel," I said quietly. Then I half-stepped out the door again and shouted, "Dean Winchester, if you're still alive, you get your ass in this diner right now!"

Then I stepped back in and stared at the angel in Sam's body. "Why'd you stab that demon _after_ you killed it with angel mojo?"

"So that Dean or you could say you had killed them."

"Why-?" And then the answer hit me. "Sam doesn't know you're in there."

At that moment, Dean crashed into the diner and the angel addressed him. "They were going to kill him, Dean."

"Ezekiel?" Dean said. I filed the name away. "The hell did you do?"

"I was protecting your brother. I thought that was what you wanted." So the angel was protecting Sam. But from what? Sam was a capable hunter.

"Right, yeah, no, I-I… sorry, I'm just still getting used to this whole thing."

"As am I."

"Alright, okay," I interjected. The two men turned to look at me. "Dean, tell me why there's an angel inside Sam. What's he protecting your brother from?"

"It would be unwise to tell her anything, Dean," Ezekiel said. "I could wipe her memory of this whole encounter."

"Uh, no, you won't. I've got this thing, it's a pain at the back of my head, it tells me when something wacky is up. It'd try to remind what you'd erased. Eventually we'd come back to this point. So tell me. If this is because you think I can't keep this a secret from Sam, then you need to think again, because I've been keeping secrets from you two for as long as I've known you."

"Sam nearly died, Mina," Dean eventually sighed. "The night the angels fell, we were trying to shut the gates of Hell forever, and it took a toll on him. He was dying, and I prayed to any angel out there, and Ezekiel answered. But the only way to save Sam was to trick him into accepting Zeke's - I'm gonna call you Zeke - help to heal him from the inside."

"So if Sam knew he was hosting an angel, he'd eject him and die?"

"Yes," Zeke said. "That is why it must remain a secret. He must never know I am here, at least until he is well."

"You say your name is Ezekiel?" I asked again because there had been a strange look on his face when Dean called him that.

"It is." He was lying. I knew it. But I didn't tell Dean, instead intending to find out his real name on my own. What did it matter if this angel went by a fake name as long as he was healing Sam?

"Alright," I said, crossing my arms. "I can do that. My lips are sealed. Sam won't find out through me."

"Thanks, Mina," Dean said. Then he asked Zeke, "So Sam's okay?" As the two talked, I shot the sniper and another demon in the head. "What are you doing?" Dean asked incredulously.

"She is making it look as though you and she finished off these demons," Zeke explained. He handed me the blade and I stabbed the demons in the throat as well.

"Right," the older Winchester said. "Smart."

"You are troubled, still."

"Yeah, it's just that, uh... this is on me. I was the one who talked Sam out of boarding up Hell. Okay? So every demon deal, every kill that they make... well, you're looking at the person who let it happen."

"You were protecting your brother. I am in Sam's head. Everything he knows, I know. And I know that what you did, you did out of love." I smirked. That was gonna go over well.

"Yeah, uh, look, Zeke I'm not really with the whole, uh, love, and... love."

"But it is why I said yes."

"Yeah, and if that goes sideways, that's on me too."

"That's not going to happen."

Dean shook his head. "This is nuts. I mean, you're Sam, but you're not Sam, and normally he's the one I'm talking to about all this stuff. I'm trusting you, Zeke. I just gotta hope that you're one of the good guys."

"I am." The angel seemed to consider his words. "But I suppose that is what a bad guy would say." That was definitely reassuring. "Dean Winchester, you are doing the right thing."

"I have to agree with him on this one, Dean," I interjected. "Sam might not be able to understand it for a while, but you're doing this for him, you're doing this to help him. It's the right thing."

The angel caught my eyes and inclined his head to me as a gesture of thanks. I smiled back, but I knew I'd have to keep an eye on him, and figure out what his real name was.

* * *

 **AN: So that's chapter one. Longer than I like to make them, but I just needed to get it all in at once. Each chapter might end up being this long because I'm gonna try to stick to one chapter per episode, especially since one of my other fics averaged three chapters per episode, and that was too much, I think. Unless you guys like lots of chapters per episode? Let me know in a review or PM. If you like SPN, look for my other stories on my page. Thanks, and see you next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Okay so here's chapter two! Also, to let you know, I'm starting up my fall semester now, so the gaps between chapters might get pretty big. I apologize for long waits ahead of time. Anyway, chapter two! I used transcripts again. As always, I only own Mina. Enjoy.**

* * *

Kevin was missing when we got back to the bunker. I followed the Winchesters through the hallways until we reached a room filled with archived boxes and files. They opened one set of shelves to reveal a hidden dungeon, complete with torture implements on the walls. I smirked in appreciation before my eyes landed on the man they'd called the King of Hell. My eyebrows rose and I said, " _This_ is the King of Hell?"

"You were expecting something different, darling?" Crowley asked, his voice laced with a British accent and a hint of venom.

"I was expecting someone taller," I said, locking eyes with him. "Taller, and fitter, and handsomer."

"More handsome." I narrowed my eyes. So he was _that_ kind of dickbag.

"Alright, enough flirting," Dean said, turning to the demon. "Who worked you over?"

"Martin Hayward and Brandon Favors."

"They did this to you?" Sam asked, motioning to the cuts and bruises and blood that covered the demon's face.

"No. They're demons. You asked for names, I'm giving you names. They're underperformers. Spike them, you'll do me a favour."

"Wow," Dean said. "You break easy."

"Please. Your little plan to have me stew in my own delicious juices... pathetic." There was that little tingle again, telling me he was lying. The isolation had done something to him. "You want intel. I want things, too. Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement. Quid pro quo, gentlemen."

"So these are what, then?" Sam asked. "Freebies?"

"Not at all. You can consider them fair trade for the enjoyment Kevin gave me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" the older Winchester asked, leaning forward.

"He's my new favorite toy." A cruel smile stretched the King of Hell's lips. "Wind him up, watch him go."

Dean turned to Sam and I. "You two check the names. I'll go find the kid."

I followed Sam back through the maze of hallways to the library, where he opened one laptop and slid another towards me. I opened it and said, "I'll do Brandon Favors. You get Hayward." He nodded and we settled into silence as we looked for the demons. I looked up once when Dean confronted the prophet in the control room, but then returned my attention to the computer. After a moment or two, though, I couldn't help myself and started listening to their conversation. "If she is alive, then she's dead," Dean said. "In every way that matters, she's dead, Kevin, I'm sorry." I frowned at the computer screen. How could Dean say that? If it was his own mother, he'd be in the dungeon torturing it out of that demon right now. "This is still the safest place for you," Dean was saying now. I glanced at Sam, considering the angel inside who was lying about his name. "And we need you, man."

"Because I'm useful," Kevin said, and I could hear the pain in his voice, daring Dean to refute it. Of course Crowley would use that against the boy.

"Because you're family." I looked up at the two of them now, noting the realization that spread across Dean's face as he realized what the demon had told the prophet. "After all the crap we've been through, after all the good that you've done... man, if you don't think that we would die for you... I don't know what to tell you." Tears started to slip down Kevin's face as he stood there. "Because you, me, Sam, and Cas, we are all we've got." There was a slight twinge in my chest when my name didn't pass his lips, but I mentally scolded myself. Of course I wasn't a part of this little family, I was only here to get back on my feet and then I'd be gone. I did wonder about the Cas person Dean mentioned. Maybe he was the only other angel they knew they could trust? Besides the one in Sam right now.

That drew my thoughts back to him and I looked away from Dean and Kevin to stare at Sam, who was intently focused on his laptop. Angels heard prayers, right? So would this one still have his radar on? Would he even hear prayers directed towards Ezekiel, since that wasn't his real name? It was worth a shot. I really needed to talk to him, anyway, and I didn't know a way to get his attention without making Sam suspect something. So I started talking to the angel in my head. "Hey, Ezekiel, Zeke, whatever. I need to talk to you. It's important." I sat for a while, still staring at Sam. He showed no sign of angel-ness. "Um, okay, so if you are hearing this, Zeke, give me a sign, or something?" Still nothing. "Alright, fine. So maybe you can't hear me. If you can, though, come talk to me in my room tonight after Sam's gone to sleep. That'll be the easiest way to keep him from suspecting anything."

And that's when Sam looked up at me, eyes flashing blue for a moment, then back to hazel as he looked back at the computer. Hm. Guess the angel did hear me. I went back to my computer, the internet search still running for anything with Brandon Favors. I sighed. Research had never been my thing. Peter had always done that. Peter. My eyes watered as I thought of the brave, strong man who'd been my rock when I'd lost everything else. And now I'd lost him. Going on a year without him and it still hurt like it was yesterday.

I roughly wiped my eyes on the back of my hand and stood. I needed a distraction. Sam looked up at me, asking, "What's up?"

"I just need a break," I answered. "Are your eyes not killing you yet?"

"Mina, it's been fifteen minutes."

"Yeah, well," I said, shrugging. "I need a break. You hungry? I'm hungry."

"Yeah, I'm a little hungry."

"Where's the kitchen? I'll see what I can fix up."

"Take the other hallway down and the kitchen's the huge door on the left."

"Okay, cool. I'll be back later." I followed his directions and found the kitchen. It was a fairly big room, with a metal table on one wall with chairs around it. I rummaged around in their cabinets and refrigerator and managed to find the ingredients to make my mom's famous enchilada casserole. As I turned the oven on and began browning hamburger meat, my thoughts wandered again to Peter. I remembered all the little details about him: how his eyes would catch the light and go from dark brown to gold, how his dark hair would hang in his eyes after he'd been exercising or fighting. And then, inevitably, I started to remember the night he died. Remembered feeling helpless as they'd fed on me, once, twice, three times. Remembered the rage with which Peter had attacked the vamps when he'd seen me, limp and apparently lifeless. Remembered the agony of holding my boyfriend, the only thing keeping me steady, in my arms as he raggedly breathed his last.

They say grief makes you feel everything, as though all your senses are turned up to one hundred and ten percent. The truth, for me anyway, is actually the opposite. Grief makes me numb, and I can't feel anything. It happened when I lost my father to suicide, and when I lost my mother to vampires. And it happened as I held Peter's dead body to my own. I must have knelt there for hours, until the blood was caked around the bite marks on my neck and his face was cold to the touch.

I was broken from thoughts of burning houses and sleepless nights after the loss of the last stable thing in my life by the Winchester brothers entering the kitchen. "Smells good," Dean said. "What's cooking?"

Looking up from the sink, where I'd been washing some dishes, I managed a smile and said, "My mom's enchilada casserole. She made it every chance she had." I noticed they each had a glass of whiskey in hand and I joked, "Where's my glass?"

"You want one?" Sam asked. "I'll go get one while we're waiting."

"Thanks, Sam," I said as he left. As soon as he was out of earshot, I asked Dean, "So, why was Sam dying?"

"Mina, I-"

"Hey, I just wanna know. That's all. I don't want some big story, just an explanation. Was it a normal hunting thing, or what?" Dean was silent. "I mean, I assume it has something to do with what you were saying to Zeke about all the demons being your fault?"

He sighed and sat down in one of the chairs, and I took a seat across from him as he spoke. "We were gonna shut the gates of Hell for good," he said. "It was a series of three trials. I was gonna do them, but Sam took over. And the end of it was the ultimate sacrifice, the death of the person doing the trials. And I couldn't let that happen, not to Sammy. So I told him to stop, right before he finished. I told him to stop but the changes that had been happening to him didn't stop. I prayed an open prayer to any angel who would listen, since Cas wasn't answering, and Zeke answered. He said the damage was too much for him to heal, especially since he'd been hurt in the Fall. He promised he could heal Sam, so I let him trick Sam into letting him in."

"That was the right thing to do, Dean."

"I'm not so sure. I mean, Sam wanted to die. Zeke told me when he looked into Sam's mind. He wanted to die, he was done. Tired." He looked down at his glass. "God knows I've felt that way myself."

I shook my head. "Sure, we've all felt that way. I've felt that way since I lost my dad. But we keep fighting, we keep doing what we know is right, and we don't give up. There will eventually be a day when we can let go, but it wasn't then for Sam, and it isn't now, either. So stop beating yourself up and being afraid of alienating Sam and just let him heal. God knows both of you need a little peace."

Dean nodded. "Sure." I knew that was the best I was gonna get out of him, and then the timer went off, signaling that the casserole was done. I pulled it out of the oven as Sam reappeared with a glass of whiskey for me.

"Perfect timing," I said as I set the pan down on the table on top of a hot pad.

"Yeah," Sam said, setting our drinks down and grabbing plates and forks. I served each of us big scoops of the casserole, then sat down with the guys and dug in. We talked our best and worst hunts, and life as hunters. I felt like I could belong with these men, cooking and eating and living and hunting with them. And I let myself feel that way, for once, instead of squashing it with negative thoughts. I smiled and laughed and let myself relax.

* * *

Sam had gone to bed early, at Dean's urging, and he had urged me to do the same, saying he'd do the cleaning up. I thanked him and retreated to my room, making sure to shut the door tightly behind me. Then I made my way to the bed and dug around in the bag for a few minutes, pulling out one of my pistols and a photo book. I put the pistol under the pillow, placed the bag on the desk, and curled up on the bed with the photo book. I flipped through it, smiling at my clumsy, finger-in-the-frame photos of my parents, before my father had gone to jail. There were pictures of just my mother as we waded in the river, or as she cooked, or as we watched television in our tiny home. The last one with her was simple, and beautiful: it caught the curls of her hair and outlined them in the setting sun that she watched from our porch.

Then started all the photos with Peter. The first I remember taking as we drove down a highway in the middle of nowhere, the rising sun making his profile stand out starkly as I snapped the picture of him driving from the passenger's seat. There were pictures of research, of pages from old books with ancient scribblings in the margins. One or two of them showed me instead of him, laughing and reaching for the camera after he'd stolen it, or sleeping off a day of hunting. And the last one with him was the hardest to look at. It had been my birthday, but as hunters we never had much money to celebrate birthdays with. Peter, thoughtful as always, had gone out and bought my favorite candy bar and ribbon with some change he'd scrounged up, then wrapped the candy bar and himself in the ribbon. I'd laughed and snapped the photo of him with the biggest grin on his face. It was the day after that when we'd gotten our last vampire case.

The photos from then on were mostly research, pictures I'd taken of books I didn't want to check out of libraries and reconnaissance photos of suspects. I'd started writing on the backs of them, keeping track of day and month, of the places I visited and monsters I killed.

There was a knock at my door and I set the photo book on the desk next to my bag before opening the door to see Sam standing there. But the tingle in my head and the way he was no longer slouched told me it was Zeke. "May I come in?" he asked, and his stiff, formal tone gave the last confirmation that the angel was running the show.

"Yeah, sure," I said, motioning him in, then shutting the door behind him. "You can sit on the bed," I said, taking my own seat back.

"You wanted to talk?" he asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "You said it was important in your prayer."

"So you do hear the prayers sent to Ezekiel?"

"Of course." He seemed wary as he said, "I am Ezekiel, therefore I hear prayers said to my name."

"Ah, but you're lying," I said. He was about to protest but I held up a hand. "Don't try to keep lying to me. I can tell when people are lying or not, and you, sir, are. Now, wanna tell me your real name?" When he was silent, I added, "You can trust me. I know most people only lie when they have to, and I want to believe that the same applies to angels. So I'm guessing you're afraid to say who you really are because something bad happened in your past that people would judge you by if they knew who you were. And if that's the case, then you can trust me more than anyone to keep your secret." He kept his silence still and I said, "Fine. Look into my mind. You have my permission. Search me and tell me you don't trust me to keep your secret."

He locked eyes with me and then there was the strangest sensation, as though someone was gently brushing against my brain. I suppressed a shiver at the strangeness of it and let him search my memories. Somehow, I was trusting this unknown angel with more knowledge about myself and my past than I'd shared with anyone but Peter. But then the sensation was gone and the angel seemed to relax a bit. "I do believe I can trust you," he said. "My name is Gadreel."

"Gadreel," I echoed. "And what did you do that would make a lovely name like that dangerous?"

"I let the Serpent into the Garden."

My eyebrows rose so far they got lost in my bangs. "Willingly? Or were you tricked?"

"I was deceived," he said quietly, looking at his hands. "Lucifer said that free will would be good for the humans, that it would give them wisdom and help them live better lives. And I believed him. He was my brother, after all. So I granted him entry to the Garden. When my mistake was discovered, I was taken and locked in Heaven's prison, punished severely every day. And I deserved it."

"But why did you lie about your name to Dean? Why Ezekiel?"

"Ezekiel was a noble angel, a true warrior of God. No one doubted his intentions or his will for good. By taking his name, I hoped to reassure Dean that I truly was here to help. I feared my true name would cause him to doubt me."

"You're trying to redeem yourself," I said with sudden clarity. "By helping the Winchesters."

"I could not ignore the prayer of the righteous man. If I can help the two men who stopped the Apocalypse, which was the result of my actions in the Garden, then perhaps I can redeem myself and show that I never meant harm to come to humanity." He looked at me. "I loved humanity, as much as my Father did. I only wanted the best for them, but I placed my trust in the wrong person."

"Well, Gadreel," I said, enjoying the secret knowledge of his real name. "You're doing the right thing. Healing Sam, that's the first step. And you don't have to worry about your decision to trust me with the truth. I keep secrets better than anyone I know."

He nodded. "I have seen into your mind, Mina Burch, and I know you speak the truth." His face had a hint of sadness as he said, "You are very strong to have done what you did at such a young age and still be whole now."

"I did what I had to," I said, shrugging. I didn't deserve praise for what I'd done. "Nothing more, nothing less." The angel looked like he wanted to discuss it more, but I faked a yawn to get him out of my room. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna go to sleep. You should probably get Sam back to bed, too." He nodded and rose, crossing to the door. "Gadreel?" I said, and he paused. "Thanks for trusting me. I know it's not easy."

"It feels good," he said. "To be believed and accepted. To be able to trust someone." I smiled and he left, shutting the door silently behind him.

* * *

 **AN: What did you guys think? Do you want to know more about Gadreel? Do you want to know more about Mina? I hope you do. There'll be more of that coming up in future chapters. You'll just have to wait, ehehehe. As always, thanks for reading, and if you have something to say, leave a review or send me a PM! (Also, if you like my writing and want more, look for She Is Not Of This World (my fic where a fangirl becomes an archangel) or Brother, Let Me Be Your Shelter (my fic where the Winchesters have an older sister). Shameless signal boosting, I know, but maybe you'll like them. Until next time!**


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